job."

Judah's explanations did not explain much, but they did help to increase
Sears' vague suspicions. He had noticed--no one could help noticing--the
ever-growing popularity of Mr. Phillips. It was quite as evident as the
decline of his own. What he suspected was that the two were connected
and that, somehow or other, the smooth gentleman who boarded and lodged
with the Macombers was responsible, knowingly, calculatingly responsible
for the change.

Yet it seemed so absurd, that suspicion. He and Phillips met frequently,
sometimes at church, or oftenest at the Harbor--Egbert's visits there
were daily now, and he dined or supped with the Berrys and the "inmates"
at least twice a week. And always the Phillips manner was kind and
gracious and urbane. Always he inquired solicitously concerning the
captain's health. There was never a hint of hostility, never a trace of
resentment or envy. And always, too, Sears emerged from one of those
encounters with a feeling that he had had a little the worst of it, that
his seafaring manners and blunt habit of speech made him appear at a
marked disadvantage in comparison with this easy, suave, gracefully
elegant personage. And so many of those meetings took place in the
presence of Elizabeth Berry.

Elizabeth liked Egbert, there was no doubt of that. Once when she and
the captain were together in the Fair Harbor office Phillips entered.
Sears and Elizabeth were bending over the ledger and Egbert opened the
door. Sears and the young lady were not in the least embarrassed--of
course there was not the slightest reason why they should be--but, oddly
enough, Phillips seemed to be. He stepped back, coughed, fidgeted with
the latch, and then began to apologize.

"I--I really beg your pardon," he said. "I am sorry.... I didn't know--I
didn't realize--I'm _so_ sorry."

Elizabeth looked at him in surprise. "But there is nothing for you to be
sorry about," she declared. "What is it? I don't understand."

Egbert still retained his hold upon the latch with one hand. His hat,
gloves and cane were in the other. It is perhaps the best indication of
his standing in the community, the fact that, having lived in Bayport
for some weeks and being by his own confession a poor man, he could
still go gloved and caned on week days as well as Sundays and not be
subject to ridicule even by the Saturday night gang in Eliphalet
Bassett's store.

He fidgeted with the latch and turned as if to go.

"I sh